


Settle

by i am the trash (brilliantdreams)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M, X-Men: First Class (2011)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantdreams/pseuds/i%20am%20the%20trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik's nightmare wakes Charles and the two share a moment when Charles comes to check on Erik personally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Settle

When Erik woke he wasn’t sure where he was. The dark of the room slammed his senses and, in a panic, he immediately threw out one hand to cast a magnetic field, mapping the room by the pull of the door knob, nails in the window panes, wires in the light fixtures, the metal handles on the bedside drawers. The other hand grappled into his sheets, pulling them close to his chest in a child’s makeshift shield. He was breathing hard and his heart was ramming itself against his ribcage so forcefully it hurt.

_Where am I?_

He felt nauseous.

_How did I get there?_

The screws in the drawer handles began to unwind as he shook his head to try and clear it, stomach knotting and unknotting. He wasn’t sure if the room felt familiar or not. Images of dank concrete walls kept stealing across his vision and the sound of a coin rattling still echoed in his ears.

A nightmare?

Erik’s eyes adjusted to the dark and he was immediately doused in the cold knowledge that he wasn’t alone. There was someone else in the room, undetected by his mutation as they stood quietly by the bed.

“Erik.”

He was very still, unblinking. Confusion rose up from his stomach, making his mouth taste sour. He had no idea where he was. The distinct lack of metal on this intruder disturbed him. He never allowed anyone into his room without it—earrings, a ring. He was panicking, fists gripping tight to his sheets, wrestling with his next move. Erik’s shaky breath hitched audibly when the stranger lifted an arm, shifting the fabric of a shirt; the sound reaching his ears painfully sharp.

Before he could lurch forward, before he could rip the loose screws from their wood, there was suddenly a warm spot somewhere near his ear. The part of his mind that was trapped in the dim concrete quarters, far away in Poland, stopped ringing; easing back as something that felt like a wave washed through him and all at once he was under water with a voice in his head and an arm hauling him upwards. Then he was in a dingy motel with one bed on an unexpectedly low CIA budget, then on the driveway of a grand mansion. The wave gently washed memories to the forefront of his mind, an offer for him to dip his toes in, gathering his thoughts.

By the time Erik found himself both grateful and irritated with the intrusion he knew where he was.

“Charles…” Erik managed softly in the gloom.

The metal in the room helped him grasp the situation properly as he recognised the weight of his belt draped over a chair to his right, the familiar shape of the hinges on his worn briefcase. His breathing settled and the magnetic field he had hastily flung all the way to the very corners of the room pulled in like a tide to rest just about his immediate space on the bed.

“You were having a nightmare, my friend. It’s alright now. You’re safe,” said Charles quietly. Erik took a few deep breaths.

“Did you wake me?” he asked, chancing a glance at the other out of his peripherals while he flexed his fingers out of their hold on the duvet.

 Charles was stood next to the bed, figure cast in soft blues in the dark. He was dressed in what Erik assumed were his pajamas; a soft tee and striped cotton pants slung haphazardly across his hips as though pulled on in a hurry.  His hair was pillow mussed and curling about his ears more than usual. Erik distantly noted that this was the first time he’d ever seen Charles without a collar or his shirt tucked in. That was why he hadn’t been able to identify him initially-- Charles lacked his usual metal accents; his watch and belt. He’d obviously been asleep prior to appearing in the room.

Guilt sliced through Erik and settled heavily in the bottom of his belly. He averted his eyes back to the bed spread. He was aware that he already tended to project more than what was usual but he imaged it was worse when he let his control slip in his sleep.

“I woke _you_.”  There was a long pause. Charles didn’t reply and Erik felt his shoulders give under the weight of the statement. “How much did you see?” He wasn’t sure what felt worse, the embarrassment he felt at the reminder of how easily Charles could know what was going on in his head, or the guilt of having involuntarily subjected the telepath to it. Met with more silence from the other man, Erik huffed a disgruntled sigh and finally lifted his face to where Charles was still standing.

“Charles, I’m—” Erik’s words stilled in his mouth and he blinked once, unsure of what he was seeing. Charles’ chin was tucked in and his hair had fallen forward into his eyes which were huge and moony in the dark, pinned to a spot on the carpet near the foot of the bed. His eyes brows were drawn down in deep concentration, fingers fisted into his pajama pants. When he closed his eyes in a long blink his eyelashes looked dark and wet. Erik started when Charles drew a rattling breath and realised that he was indeed, crying.

“Charles,” he breathed and the other grit his teeth against a tiny whimpering noise that threatened to escape from behind them. There was another quiet moment. Erik blinked again and swallowed thickly; uncertain what he should say in the face of this sort of thing. The quiet passed when Charles suddenly rubbed a fist over his brow and groaned.

“I-I’m sorry, Erik. It’s just your nightmare was…You were projecting rather loudly and I just need a moment to gather myself. I’m just tired and still half asleep, I think. It sometimes takes a little while to come out of dreams.” He sounded strangled and tears were still coming even as Charles clenched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they were still swimming and helplessly blue. His cheeks were flushed a distressed red and he was shaking. Unable to do that gathering it seemed.  Erik’s skin pimpled in a chill that stole across his exposed arms and neck. Perhaps Charles was projecting now; the room was warm.

“Erik…” Charles whispered his name like it pained him. “How do you do this? I was so scared. And so sad…” His body slumped sideways as he gave himself over, suddenly looking smaller and exhausted in a way Erik had never seen on the other man before. He looked away. He didn’t know what to tell Charles.

_‘I’ve been dealing with it for years now’?_

He knew it would bring the other man no comfort. The guilt that had taken hold in his gut churned unpleasantly. Charles looked so helpless. It was difficult to process when he was used to such a put together Charles. In his loose pajamas and with his messy bedtime hair, he looked totally different; soft around the edges in the hush of the bedroom. He really must be tired, thought Erik. He’d never seen Charles so affected by his telepathy, never seen him so totally undone. Or maybe Erik had just projected that vividly. Maybe the dreams really were that bad. Erik was used to them. Mostly.

Before he could really think it through, Erik lifted his hand and reached for the man standing at his bedside. His fingertips brushed Charles’ own before coming to a stop as he realised what he was doing.

He wasn’t a touchy person. He’d never done anything like this before. But Charles, who was tactile, who couldn’t help but give a reassuring touch to the shoulder, a pat on the back, who so easily drew Raven to his side and pressed kisses into her hair and who hugged at goodbye; opened his hand and accepted Erik’s without a second thought. The tension in Charles’ hand loosened immediately and Erik almost smiled at the way the other relished the contact.

For a long while they simply held hands without looking at each other. Erik watched their hands and felt the chill on Charles’ skin, and subsequently his own, pass as fingers grew warm against his. He didn’t especially hate the contact but wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. It started a funny, soft but nervous spot in his chest that he wanted to rub at. But he knew what this meant to Charles who was scared and tired and totally overwhelmed, and Erik understood all too well what _that_ felt like. Not looking up, Erik gently tested his thumb over Charles’ knuckles and after receiving a small, grateful squeeze from the other, he continued the motion, sweeping back and forth across Charles’ hand. Back and forth.

The room slowly warmed again and when Charles started a low, barely there sort of hum, it took Erik a moment to realise he wasn’t hearing it out loud, but in his mind as the telepath relaxed into his touch. It was a nice hum that felt bright in his mind and thrummed through him in the same way he imagined it did Charles. Usually Erik disapproved of having Charles in his head but knowing that he was putting him at ease-- at ease enough that he was projecting without noticing, made him smile and loosed the knot in his stomach. He felt calm; the nightmare filed away where he didn’t have to look at it.

“I’m alright now, Erik,” said Charles after a while. He didn’t let go of Erik’s hand as he spoke, though Erik was tempted to pull away as Charles sighed so heavily it jostled his fingers in Erik’s, drawing attention to the fact of what they were doing. The soft moment of comfort having passed; Erik was starting to feel a little embarrassed with the contact.  “I hurried over when your dream woke me,” continued Charles. “But somehow it’s ended up the opposite of what I intended.” He laughed softly and squeezed Erik’s hand again, clearly not as embarrassed as Erik was. “I’m sorry,” he apologised.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t yours either.” Erik grimaced and let go of Charles’ hand. The other man shuffled on the carpet to face him. His eyes were too blue for the darkness under creased, worried brows. Ah—there was the Charles he knew; sincere and gaze intense and open. “The others wake me too, you know. Raven and Alex…”  Charles’ voice was gentle in the dark. “You’re just the most often. That’s to be expected though. But when Raven first came to live in this house she woke me almost every night. We slept together for a long time in our childhood so that I could quiet her without getting up into the cold. I’m well accustomed to this sort of thing.”

Erik smirked through the unpleasant revelation that he woke Charles regularly. “I thought you weren’t supposed to read her mind, Charles.”

“I’m not. I don’t. Not now since she’s asked me not to. But when we were children it was more difficult for me to control my powers and sometimes it was necessary. I used to lie next to her and let my mind become a blanket over hers so I could sleep.”

“You can quiet us from the comfort of your own bed now though, I assume,” said Erik, narrowing his eyes. Charles smiled tightly.

“Of course but it’s easier when I’m closer—sometimes I’m tired and need that to focus. And, well, I want to check on you. Personally.” Erik shifted in the bed and the funny soft spot returned. 

“How very human of you, Charles,” murmured Erik, intending to be snide but the words holding no malice at all; simply soft and watery in the gloom as Erik really did rub the heel of his palm into that nervous spot beneath his breast bone.

As they existed in the hush of the bedroom, Erik watched Charles who was wiping his hands—sweaty, Erik supposed though he hadn’t noticed—on his pajamas, gaze silent and through eyelashes. Much as he had when he’d first woken. This time he found a much more relaxed Charles. Even after the teary episode, the hand holding and the admittance that he’d come to _check_ on Erik, Charles seemed unfazed. What he did seem was exhausted.

His eyelids looked heavy and his shoulders were weak under the lines of his soft tee, missing their usual dignified posture. His rosy mouth was parted just so to let tired breath ebb and flow and he looked to be almost swaying a bit on his feet. Erik thought about Charles speaking of how often he woke him and imagined the telepath waking, scared and alone, yet pressing forward through the aftermath out of concern for Erik. He imagined him fumbling for his pajama pants and doing his best to make his way quietly down the hall to this room. He imagined him standing, shivering in his bare feet as he carefully untangled Erik’s mind from the nightmare with the nights growing colder around him and the shock of Erik’s memories colder still. Erik had dreams almost every night. Not always this bad, but always… upsetting.

Erik was a hard man. He didn’t know much of hand holding or soft chest spots, and he was acutely more familiar with delivering pain than taking it away, but this was Charles. He'd saved Erik's life and shown him camaraderie and _care_ when no one else had. Charles was unlike anyone else, Charles was _special_ , Charles was… he was something different and new altogether and Erik felt he owed him a great deal. Erik was a man who paid his debts. To Shaw. To Charles. Debts.

“Perhaps you should sleep in here.” When he spoke it was almost inaudible but meeting Charles’ eyes, there was certainty in his stare.

It was logical. And it wasn’t as though it would be an unfamiliar situation for the two. They’d slept in much closer quarters in rough, backwater motels. And though Erik was continuously uncomfortable with Charles being in his head, he did recall having slept better while they were out recruiting, while Charles was near; even though that likely meant Charles was censoring his dreams a little. Intentionally or no.

Charles seemed to skim these notions from the surface of Erik’s mind and after a moment, nodded jerkily.

“If you don’t mind, Erik, that would help. I would like that very much.”

Erik nodded back, an affirmation, and butterflied his eyelashes a bit uncoordinatedly in a blink. He was tired too, he realised. Charles shifted his weight and averted his eyes to the bed spread.

“And for tonight?” The telepath asked. Erik sighed and rubbed his face wearily. Passing his palm over heavy, closed lids, he missed the muscle in Charles’ jaw feather, the slight pink about his cheeks and ears, albeit nearly hidden in the dark, flush.

“Tonight, Charles, you should go back to bed. I’ll stay awake a while so you can go to sleep first.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I’ll move your things in the morning.” Erik hoped Charles wouldn’t hear his resolve to stay awake the rest of the night. Charles was obviously tired.

Whether Charles did hear his thoughts or not remained unclear as the other man watched Erik for a moment and then turned and padded towards the door.

“Tomorrow then,” he said, a hand on the doorjamb.

“Tomorrow,” Erik assured him.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Charles disappeared into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him and Erik loosed a breath into the darkness. He waited until he felt the careful pressure of Charles’ mind fade from his own, the other man content that Erik was alright and sufficiently ‘checked upon’, to reach over and turn on his lamp and retrieved the book from his night stand. Opening to where he’d left off, he settled against his pillows.

He’d had sleepless nights far worse than this. Let Charles rest for tonight. Then they’d see about tomorrow.

 


End file.
